I'm sitting here recovering from my recent bout with strep. Brant is at his company Christmas party, and before you think he's a jerk for leaving me alone, just know that I encouraged him to go. I'm feeling a little better, just not good enough to join him. I've been sick since Thursday and he's done nothing but take care of me. He took me to the doctor, went to pick up my prescription, encouraged me to stay in bed all day and he constantly asked "Is there anything I can do for you?"
So, you wonder, is this going to be a post all about how great my husband is? Well yes, yes it is. So if you have no interest in reading about him, stop here. The thing is, he deserves the recognition. Almost every day the last four and a half years, I've thought he was a great husband. But the last three months have changed that perception. He's not just a great husband, but a great man and on his way to becoming a great father.
Case in point: I have all but forgotten what our washer and dryer look like. Brant has always done some laundry, but I usually take care of most of it. Since I became pregnant and got a new job (read: became physically, mentally and emotionally exhausted every day) Brant stepped up in the household chores department. I may have cleaned the kitchen once or twice, but I don't recall doing a single load of laundry. I didn't ask him to do this stuff. He just started doing it. And I stopped. And he hasn't complained once. I plan on repaying his hard work by birthing his child. Then it's Even Steven, right?